


Celebration

by rudbeckia



Series: Random Worlds [33]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Breaking Up & Making Up, Fluff, M/M, OOC & IDC, benarmie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 15:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12684249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Armitage isn’t speaking to Ben and Ben is mystified until Mitaka tells him he missed an important date. Somehow, he has to make it up to Armitage. If he doesn’t, he’ll have to answer to Phasma.AU - Personal Trainer Armitage and bodybuilder Ben.





	1. Hints

Ben swiped his card, looked around the small reception area for Armitage, waved at Phasma’s scowl and wandered across to the changing room, looking in vain over the machines for a flash of orange hair before he reached the door. Mitaka was in the locker room, wiping down surfaces in a casual show of industry. Ben sighed.  
“Well? Are you going to tell me what I did wrong?” he asked. “Your boss isn’t answering my texts and he hasn’t come out to say hello.”

Mitaka gripped his wad of blue tissue paper and hygiene spray bottle and turned slowly. “Um, not my place, sir.”  
Ben took a step forward and Mitaka took a step back. “But I did do something wrong, right?” Mitaka nodded and stepped back again, heel hitting the locker unit behind him with a gentle thump. Ben lowered his voice. “Tell me.”  
By now Ben had his hand on the locker door beside Mitaka’s head and Mitaka was big-eyed and red-faced.  
“Youmissedananniversary!”  
“I missed,” said Ben, slowly, “an anniversary?” He frowned. “But we’ve only been together for a couple of months!”  
“Yes, sir,” replied Mitaka, breathing heavy relief that the matter was now out of his hands. “Six month anniversary. The general likes these things.”  
“But that makes no sense!” Ben stepped back and threw his hands up in a wide shrug. “Anniversaries are annual. It’s in the name. What does he want me to do? Wait... _six_ months?”

Mitaka scurried out muttering _gotta go — client now_ and Ben saw with distressing clarity all the hints that Armitage had dropped but that had sunk unnoticed.  
Two weeks ago: _hey what are you doing weekend after next?_ He’d said he’d be working and changed the subject.  
One week ago: _There’s a new place opened, a fancy cocktail bar. Want to go next Friday night?_ He’d said he didn’t like cocktails or having to dress up.  
Four days ago: _I bet you can get Monday off after a weekend on. Weekends are difficult for us both but I could book Monday off too and we could go out for the day._ He’d said he’d think about it.  
Yesterday: _How long have we been together?_ He’d shrugged and said, “Dunno, a while.”

Ben checked his phone. There was still no message from Armitage acknowledging that he was coming to the gym for “a late workout ;-) xxx” and he changed into his workout gear with a growing feeling of despondency. When he went out into the gym he tried to peer through the mirror-striped privacy glass of Armitage’s office behind reception, defocusing his eyes just right to see that there was a grey shape that _might_ be Armitage lurking within. Phasma strode behind the counter, cut off his view and fixed Ben with a freezing glare.  
“Can I help you, sir?”  
“I would like to speak with the manager, please.”  
“I’m afraid he’s very busy. Why don’t you carry on with your workout and I’ll tell him you’re here.”  
Ben sighed and leaned forward. “Phasma, just let me see him, okay?”  
Phasma almost growled and leaned forward too until their foreheads almost bumped. “No. He doesn’t want to see you tonight.”  
“Fine, okay,” said Ben with a deep frown. “Just... tell me if he booked tomorrow off.”  
Phasma sighed and let her scowl relax a little. She reached under the counter and brought out a clipboard with a sheaf of appointment sheets clipped to it. She flicked over the top sheet.  
“Hmm. Monday... No, he scheduled a staff training exercise first thing.”  
“Oh.” Ben rubbed his face and took one step away from the counter. Phasma caught up two steps later and spoke quietly.  
“He’s got Tuesday off. Whatever you need to do to fix this, do it. When he’s in love he’s nicer to us and he’s not very forgiving.”  
Ben collected his things from his locker without doing his workout. On his way out, Phasma handed him her business card.

Monday saw Armitage open the gym and sigh at his staff. He complained about Thanisson’s uniform looking scruffy and made him go change, then found dirt in the coffee bar and sent Mitaka to scrub all the surfaces. He conducted a thorough inspection of the changing rooms and snapped at Phasma because the towels in the unisex room were not stacked in a perfect pyramid. As the staff gathered once more to find out what other fault could be found, the main door rattled, a hand waved and a face smiled in through the glass. Armitage gritted his teeth and went to open the door.  
“We’re not open until seven.”  
“I know,” said the delivery woman with another smile. She held out a slim rectangular box about twenty-four inches long. “Can you sign for this?”  
Armitage squinted at the label, scrawled his name and closed the door again. He carried the package to reception and left it on the counter. Phasma raised one eyebrow.  
“Aren’t you going to open that?”  
“It can wait until after staff briefing.”  
“It might be important.”  
“It is more important to begin a new week properly informed of upcoming events. Now, Dopheld, tell us about your charity zumbathon proposal.”

An hour later, Armitage still had not opened his package. Phasma left it on the counter and unlocked the doors to admit let the first clients of the day. Half an hour later the delivery person came back with another long, rectangular package for Armitage. Phasma signed for it then called _general manager to reception_ over the tannoy. Armitage looked at the twin packages in confusion until Phasma held out the first one and a pair of scissors.  
“Open it.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I want to know what’s inside.”  
“It’s probably samples of the new promotional posters.”  
“I want to see!”  
Phasma insisted and Armitage gave in rather than fire a valuable personal trainer in front of clients in a fit of pique. He opened the first parcel and stared at the object inside.

One single long-stemmed red rose with no message.

Phasma passed him the second package. Armitage opened it too and pulled out two long-stemmed red roses. He looked at Phasma and shook his head.  
“I don’t have a vase!”

Another hour later, the delivery woman came back with a larger package for Armitage. Phasma called him immediately and smiled as he trotted across the gym floor with Mitaka and Thanisson following not very discreetly behind. Armitage opened the parcel. Inside he found a large glass vase and four long-stemmed red roses. Mitaka collected the three roses that rested temporarily in Thanisson’s water bottle while Phasma filled the vase and Armitage fumbled his phone. He sent one message in reply to the many he’d received and ignored.

 _Stop sending me roses._  
Almost immediately his phone buzzed in his pocket.  
_...If I come round, will you talk to me?_  
Armitage felt his jaw clench and stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

At a few minutes after ten-thirty, Armitage received a bouquet of eight long-stemmed red roses, decoratively wrapped in pink and silver cellophane and tied with a curly satin ribbon.

At half past eleven another delivery arrived. This time Armitage gaped at the sight of Phasma signing for sixteen blooms, their deep red hue accentuated by a few sprigs of white gypsophila. Armitage glowered at Mitaka as he carefully slotted the new roses amongst the ones already in the vase.  
“If he’s gone exponential,” said Armitage ungraciously, “at this rate we will be buried by closing time.”  
Mitaka looked up, face as serious as he could manage, and said, “But you can’t possibly call him and talk to him ever again if you’re not on speaking terms.”  
Phasma nodded. “Quite right. You can’t give in.”  
Thanisson called over from where his client ground out _just three more crunches youcandoit,_ “Yeah, freeze him out!”  
“I’m sure,” said Mitaka, carefully examining the petals of one rosebud rather than accidentally glance at his co-workers, “that he’ll take the hint that you‘ve broken up with him.”  
“Yeah,” added Phasma. “I mean, people you like who hang around for six months and want to send you roses show up all the time. I bet you’ll meet someone new really soon.”

Armitage shut himself in the office, waited until he saw his employees go back to work, and pulled out his phone.  
_Okay I’ll meet you. Please no more roses._  
_...I’ll be there at noon. Take the rest of the day off?_

Armitage watched the clock. At two minutes past twelve, Ben arrived carrying a bouquet of thirty-two pink carnations. Armitage stared in horror.  
“I said no more roses!” He pointed at the overcrowded vase on one of the tables in the coffee bar. “There’s no room!”  
“These aren’t roses and they aren’t for you,” replied Ben, handing the bouquet to Phasma. “Come out for lunch?”  
Armitage chewed his lip. Phasma offered him his jacket and bag.  
“I can run things here,” she said after flashing a smile and a wink at Ben. “Au revoir.”

Ben escorted Armitage to his car and held the door for him.  
“Can we stop at your place on the way to lunch?” asked Ben as he settled into the driving seat. “You might need a couple of things.”  
“Like what? Are you taking me somewhere without golden arches for a change?”  
“Yes. It’s a celebration,” replied Ben. “I booked a cute little place I know; got us a table for dinner. We can have lunch at the airport.”  
“Uh? I have to go back to work!”  
“No you don’t.” Ben glanced at Armitage when they stopped at a red light. He smiled. “We have to be there by nine or we’ll lose the table.”  
“What?” Armitage looked confused. “Be _where_ by nine?”  
“Oh, well, it’s half twelve now so we have half an hour for you to change and pack an overnight bag and grab your passport, then an hour to get to the airport around two, flight’s at four and Paris is an hour ahead so we’ll be there by six thirty, into a taxi and at the hotel by seven thirty to check in and relax, then the restaurant is a short walk along the Left Bank.”  
“You’re taking me to Paris.” Armitage shook his head then smiled and laughed. “You’re taking me to fucking _Paris!_ For dinner!”  
Ben smiled. “Happy six month anniversary.”


	2. Honesty

The journey was every bit as straightforward as Ben said it would be despite Armitage having second thoughts in the car on the way to the airport, third thoughts in the departure lounge bar and fourth thoughts at the gate. Each time Ben patiently deflected Armitage’s excuse for absolutely having to go home and reassured him with a hug. Soon they sat holding hands on the back seat of a battered Renault crawling through central Paris, then clutching tightly to one another as the taxi attacked the twelve-exit terror of L’Etoile around L’Arc de Triomphe with a curse and crossed fingers. On arrival outside their hotel, Ben slipped the driver the extra twenty Euros he’d promised for a brief detour around a few of the city sights. Stepping through the door of their hotel felt to Armitage like a trip back in time and their room, although comfortable, had only enough space around the double bed for one person to move with care.

Armitage slung his bag onto the deep ochre counterpane and rolled across the surface. He held his hand out to Ben and Ben clambered up to lie on his side, one arm draped over Armitage’s chest.  
“I thought you’d got fed up of me,” said Armitage, looking up at the yellowed ceiling. “That’s what usually happens after a while. I’m too uptight, or I’m a prude, or I’m not emotional enough, or _ugh_ ‘you’d want it if you loved me’ or something.”  
In reply, Ben pulled Armitage close, kissed his cheek and told him he was an idiot. Armitage shuffled onto his side and stroked Ben’s cheek.  
“I need to know that you don’t expect anything from me tonight. I’ll fret all through dinner trying to think up an excuse for being whisked away on a surprise romantic trip and not wanting sex.”  
Ben kissed Armitage’s palm. “Babe, it’s okay. You don’t ever need to make an excuse. I know you don’t want sex and I...”

Ben searched for the right thing to say.  
_”I want you to trust me”_ was something no one had the right to demand.  
_”I don’t want it either”_ was a condescending lie that was supposed to be kind but would sting all the same.  
_”I don’t want it unless you do too”_ might be interpreted as having an undertone of pressure.  
_”I don’t want more than we have”_ sounded like an admission that he was going without something, that their relationship was less than it could be.

“...I love you.”

Armitage clung tightly to Ben and Ben felt his breath shudder. “Are you okay? Arm?”  
Armitage muttered an apology and got up to use the cramped ensuite. Ben let him go.

They showered one at a time due to the limited size of the ensuite — really just a shower enclosure in a cupboard — and changed for dinner. Armitage admired the way Ben filled out the shoulders of his smart-casual shirt and snuck a squeeze of his upper arm, muscle definition somehow enhanced by short, tight fitting sleeves. In return, Ben watched Armitage’s lithe figure shimmy into his trousers and traced a finger along the crest of his hip, making Armitage giggle and squirm. Armitage wore the tie Ben had bought for him at the airport because _it matches your eyes_ and Ben slipped on the jacket Armitage had often threatened to sew elbow patches on whilst calling him _Professor Solo the geography teacher._

Dinner was good. The brasserie was basement level, candlelit and furnished with mismatched varnished wooden chairs and tables in a way that managed to look chic rather than cheap. Armitage raised his eyebrows at the menu and closed it quickly. He leaned over to Ben and murmured, _”Fucking hell! Are you sure about this place?”_  
Ben grinned and replied, _”Order the entrecôte. It’s worth every Euro.”_  
Armitage did as Ben suggested and Ben chose the wine. They ate without speaking, communicating their pleasure in excellent food with looks and smiles, ankles crossing under the table.

After dinner when it became obvious that their table was needed by another couple, Ben and Armitage walked along the bank of the Seine to where Notre-Dame sat on its island, flying buttresses lit dramatically from below giving the building an elegant grace. Armitage leaned against the riverbank wall, staring at the beauty of the cathedral’s architecture. Ben leaned against Armitage with his arms around Armitage’s waist. Armitage turned his head to kiss Ben.  
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I thought you didn’t care but you had a surprise planned all along! I’m sorry I was such an arsehole the last few days.”  
Ben offered silent thanks to whatever force controlled his life at that moment and suppressed the urge to come clean. There would be time for that after another six months. He kissed Armitage back. “I’m glad you agreed to come. I wasn’t sure you would.”  
Armitage leaned back against Ben. “I got you something. It’s a bit pathetic compared with thirty-one red roses and a whirlwind romantic dinner date in Paris.” He pulled a small gift box from his pocket and sighed at it. Ben laughed.  
“I bet it’s perfect. Can I see?”  
Armitage turned and Ben stepped back. He took the box and opened it, pulling out the leather thong bracelet it contained and admiring the intertwined silver hearts that dangled from it.  
“You don’t have to wear it,” said Armitage as Ben held it out for Armitage to fasten around his wrist. Ben cupped Armitage’s face and kissed him.

They strolled hand in hand back to their hotel, too tired to talk about what to do tomorrow — the Louvre or the Eiffel Tower — leaving the final decision until breakfast. Lying in bed, back in the tiny room, Armitage rested his head on Ben’s shoulder and played with the sparse hairs on his chest and stomach. Ben caught Armitage’s hand in his own and kissed it.  
“You’re turning me on.”  
“Sorry. Should I stop?”  
“No it’s nice! I like it. Just warning you that I might want to, um, go deal with the consequences myself.”  
“Okay. You can do that while I’m holding you if you want. I like that you can come with me here. Is that weird?”  
Armitage resumed stroking Ben’s chest and Ben sighed. “I have a confession. Please promise not to hate me if I ruin tonight.”  
“Oh?” Armitage stopped moving. He held his breath. Ben sighed again.  
“This wasn’t planned at all. I had no idea why you weren’t returning my messages until Dopheld told me last night. Phasma helped plan this whole day. It was sheer luck that I could get last minute flights and a hotel, and I have never been to that restaurant ever before.”

Ben lay still, waiting for Armitage to yell or curse or something, but he laughed. “Well then. A surprise romantic getaway for us both!”

Ben breathed relief. “You’re not pissed at me?”  
“Quite the opposite,” said Armitage. “You pulled it off. I mean, the hotel stinks but the flowers and... wait, did Phasma tell you I complained about not having a vase? Were you in the florist’s all morning?”  
“Yeah, basically.”  
“You know I’d’ve forgiven you for far less. Hmm, maybe twelve roses, Monday curry special at ‘Spoons with a bottle of red to take back to mine then Tuesday doing touristy shit in London would’ve been fine.” Armitage patted Ben’s face and kissed him. “I love that you went overboard. So _extra!”_  
Ben laughed. “I am so relieved you’re not angry that I missed all your hints. Arm, just _tell me_ next time. Or tell Mitaka to tell me.”  
“Okay,” said Armitage with a serious nod. “In six months’ time, when we have been together for a whole year, I want dinner and dancing.”  
Ben laughed. “I can do that.”  
Armitage kissed Ben’s nose and added, “in Venice.”


End file.
